A miracle dog for Reese

By MARIA ELENA BACA, Star Tribune

Last update: May 20, 2007 - 6:18 PM

It was a Tuesday evening in late March at Glynner's Pub in
Rochester, Minn. Brad and Joanie Trahan were settling their family
into their usual table when their middle son, Reece, who has severe
autism, began to whine and flail his arms.

"Don't bite, Reecey," his dad, Brad, intoned, once again stopping
his son from nervously biting himself on his bruised forearms.

During dinner, Reece, nearly 7, kept his father busy. First he
darted toward a heaping nacho plate at a nearby table; Brad
intercepted him just in time. Later, Reece stacked and unstacked
cups, moving Brad's hand to help him with his cup, taking a sip,
putting it down, asking for more. Brad patiently did the tasks his
son set for him. It looked exhausting.

That was before the arrival of Pudge, a black Labrador who began
living with the Trahans in March after a 2 1/2-year wait.

The idea of using service dogs to aid autistic kids is relatively
new. National Service Dogs (NSD) of Kitchener, Ontario, first
experimented with the pairing 11 years ago and has placed about 125
dogs, only two of them in the United States. NSD also is one of the
few service dog providers that specializes in training dogs for
kids with autism.

Service dogs make autistic children safer, can help them interact
socially and can reduce some parental stress if families go into
the relationship with realistic expectations, said Kristen Burrows,
a researcher from the Ontario Veterinary College at the University
of Guelph.

Reece's autism was diagnosed in January 2003, three months before
his third birthday. He doesn't speak. He wears a diaper. He moves
constantly, his hands working beads, phone cords, bouncy balls and
other favorite objects. He has a limited ability to interact with
people, even his family. His behavior has been unpredictable.
Crowds, loud noises and transitions agitate him.

In April, the Trahans again went to Glynner's for dinner - this
time with Pudge. Reece was agitated. He pressed his thumbs up into
his earlobes and swayed, whining. He resisted Brad's attempts to
reassure him. Brad hooked the tether that Reece wears on his belt
to Pudge's vest.

Reece resisted, wrenching at the 5-foot tether and pulling it
taut. Pudge lay still as the sphinx, stopping Reece from darting
across the restaurant. After a minute, Reece gave up. Then he
stepped over his dog to the table and calmly began to sip at a
glass of water.

He went on to feed himself and play quietly as his parents
chatted over a leisurely dinner. A first.